


Tempered

by Lalafell_Princess



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalafell_Princess/pseuds/Lalafell_Princess
Summary: Ser Janlenoux has yet to be 'initiated' into the Heavens' Ward. What lies in store for him will change his life forever.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Tempered

**Author's Note:**

> This story idea came from a lovely art piece I found depicting Janlenoux's tempering. I cannot for the life of me find it to give credit, but it basically was Janlenoux being restrained by his fellow knights and being forced to look up at Zephirin while he pleaded for his life. If I ever see it again, or if anyone knows where I can find it, I will certainly link it.

Ser Janlenoux stood in the grand kitchens of the Vault, stirring a large vat of savory-smelling liquid. He ladled some of the broth onto the wooden spoon, bringing it to his lips to blow gently before tasting it. He couldn’t help but smile; he’d done it again. The other members of the Ward would be pleased.

He had just set about pouring the soup into large bowls when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Ser Zephirin strolling up to him. He grinned. “You’re just in time. I’ve just finished –”

“The Archbishop would like to see you. It is time for your initiation.” Zephirin offered no emotion as he cut Janlenoux off.

“Could it not wait until after supper? ‘Twould be a shame for it to get cold…” Janlenoux’s smile faltered slightly when Zephirin’s demeanor remained the same.

“Follow me, Ser Janlenoux. And with haste, if you would.”

Suppressing a sigh, Janlenoux placed the spoon in the pot and followed Zephirin out of the room and down the long hallway. Little did he know his soup would be long forgotten and never consumed by any of the Ward.

Janlenoux was a little disgruntled by Zephirin’s behavior. It wasn’t like him. Sure, he could be serious at times, but when he was off-duty he tended to be a lot more relaxed and even cracked jokes and playfully sparred once in a while. Just then, however, he seemed utterly void of any emotion at all. Janlenoux suspected it had something to do with his ‘initiation.’

That was what the Ward had taken to calling it. He knew little to nothing about it, only that each member of the Ward in turn had participated in it. Since he had been inducted only a week prior, he had yet to learn its secrets. He tried his best to pry what he could about it from his fellow members, but each would avoid his questions like a fell wind and change the subject. Even Ser Adelphel, his metaphorical brother, had remained tight-lipped, and they told each other everything.

The pair reached a set of heavy wooden doors set into the stone wall. Janlenoux had never been in to see the Archbishop before. He’d had his ceremony in the Pillars announcing his induction to the Ward, of course, where the Archbishop had knighted him, but that was all scripted and traditional. This, he suspected, was a far newer procession. Zephirin pushed open one of the doors, gesturing for Janlenoux to go through. He did so, squinting in the dim light beyond. Zephirin followed behind him, the door shutting with an echoing boom that sounded rather final.

Janlenoux jumped slightly as torches sprang to life around him. Ser Charibert could be seen illuminating each in turn, sporting the same expressionless face as Zephirin. That was definitely odd; the former Inquisitor was never without a mirthful grin. Janlenoux supposed this ‘initiation’ was far more serious than he thought.

And he was right.

“Ser Janlenoux of the Steel Oath.” Zephirin had moved to stand in front of him. Both were positioned in the center of the ring of torches. Janlenoux cast his eyes around to see the other members of the Ward surrounding them. He locked eyes with Adelphel and risked a small smile, one which wasn’t returned in the slightest.

Zephirin continued. “You are the newest member of our band of brothers. As such, you must pledge yourself to our cause. You must be willing to give your life for that which we fight for. Do you accept this?”

“Yes, Ser Zephirin,” Janlenoux said resolutely, standing up a little straighter. “I pledge my life to the service of the Archbishop and the Holy See of Ishgard.”

“Very good. Now, kneel.” Zephirin’s face twitched into a grin, but not a friendly one; Janlenoux felt a shiver run through his armor as he looked into his glinting emerald eyes before falling down on one knee with bowed head. He was expecting Zephirin to knight him or something of the likes, but received something far different.

“Brothers, it is time.”

Janlenoux heard heavy footfalls as the members of the Ward approached him while he stared at the pristine marble floor. They proceeded to grip his armor tightly. He flinched and made a move to get up. “W-What is the meaning of…?”

“Don’t struggle, Janlenoux,” Zephirin said calmly. “’Twill only made this harder.”

Janlenoux attempted to free himself from their grasp, but they were not intent on letting him escape. He felt panic begin to set in. There was no way this was any normal initiation; if they intended to test his strength they would have done so in a trial by combat, not in the front room of the Archbishop’s chambers. They wanted him to submit. He didn’t know why, but he wouldn’t allow them to.

He pushed with all his might against them. Some were caught off guard by his surge of strength, and he was able to break free, if only briefly. He automatically reached for his sword that wasn’t there; they weren’t allowed to wield weapons in the Archbishop’s chambers. He was forced to grapple with his fists, trying to fend off their pursuit. He was able to land a punch on Ser Paulecrain’s face, but was promptly cuffed from behind by Ser Grinnaux. He was brutal, giving him several blows to the face. Janlenoux sputtered on blood, kicking for all he was worth.

“Why do you do this?! I have pledged myself to your service, and you would attack me?!” He landed a blow on Grinnaux’s knee, making him sag. “I thought we were brothers!”

Charibert closed his hand around Janlenoux’s neck from behind, pulling him back to pin him to the floor. Zephirin slowly approached his struggling form, a slightly distasteful look on his face. He leaned down to give him a sneer. “Ah, but you are mistaken, Ser Janlenoux. We have _yet_ to become brothers. You must first _bend_ to our will.”

Janlenoux gritted his teeth. “I know not what you plan with this, but I will _not_ submit.” He shook Charibert off and leapt to his feet. “True brothers would _never_ treat each other this way!”

He fought with all his might, and it was good fight. Would that it were enough. One against ten was hardly a fair fight. He became more and more exhausted; he was not used to hand-to-hand combat; none of them were. However, the other members of the Ward seemed to possess some sort of unknown power at that time, making them unceasing in their quarrel. Janlenoux began to slow down, his breathing heavy and his armor scuffed. Both eyes were swollen black, his lip split and blood caked in his lavender hair. His true test began, however, when Adelphel approached him.

Brightblade had kept his distance up until that point, watching his brother struggle. Finally, he stepped forward.

“Brother!” Janlenoux called out beneath the weight of Ser Guerrique and Ser Hermenost. “Please, help me!”

Adelphel said nothing. Instead he held Janlenoux in an iron grip when he managed to escape the other knight’s grasps. Adelphel pinched him on the arm, making him moan and sink to the bloodied floor. He stood on Janlenoux’s bent, trembling legs. Tears were falling freely from his cheeks at this point; he could hardly believe his own brother had betrayed him.

The others surrounded, placing hands and feet on him, as he had begun to weakly struggle again. He choked on blood and tears as Adelphel gripped his hair and chin, forcing him to look up at Zephirin’s approaching form.

“Z-Zephirin… P-Please…” Janlenoux hiccupped. He hadn’t the strength to say any more.

Zephirin merely offered a slow, satisfied smirk.

“Excellent work, Ser Zephirin.”

The Archbishop himself approached out of the darkness. He held up his gnarled hand. “Now, hold him there just a moment longer. It is time to fully dedicate him to our cause.”

“Yes, Your Eminence,” they all said in unison.

Before Janlenoux could say anything, the room was filled with a blinding light. The Archbishop became engulfed in its radiance, and Janlenoux tried to look away, but Adelphel held his head firmly in place. His face become one of true terror as he processed what he saw, eyes wide, tears still slipping down his cheeks.

He screamed, long and loud, and that was the last thing he remembered.

* * *

“You are mine to command now, Ser Janlenoux.”

“Yes, Your Eminence.”


End file.
